The prate of the damned
by Whitedraft
Summary: He knew perfectly why the shadows didn't dare to try and drain his emotions and memories, nor even tried to approach him. However, this wasn't the place he was supposed to be. He wasn't afraid…he was angry.


Yu-Gi-Oh! Is property of Kazuki Takahashi. You should already know that.

…

A pair of crimson eyes opened suddenly, revealing the tiny pupil inside them. It reminded of the monster from an old movie. They moved side to side, trying to recognize the place he had been sent in. he didn't move, thought, or walked a few meters, trying to explore it. No; he knew exactly where he was. The darkness, the feeling of pure emptiness and despair. Yes, he definitely knew where he was.

He lifted his torso from the 'ground' (a single cover of dark purple shadows that preventing him from falling through the vacuum) and after a hard work, managed to sit down. He was extremely weak, he knew that. The direct attack had caused him several injures and had taken away a big part of his energy. However, he wasn't worried about that. He would, eventually, start recovering all his strength; and then, he would get out from there.

His raised his gaze from his knees, and saw the shadows approaching him slowly. They floated painfully towards him, like souls in a purgatory, but stopped just a few inches from his body. Then, they rethreaded and floated away quickly, disappearing in the surrounding dark.

This place wasn't unfamiliar to him; not at all. He knew perfectly why the shadows didn't dare to try and drain his emotions and memories, nor even tried to approach him. However, this wasn't the place he was supposed to be. He wasn't afraid…he was angry.

He had been negligent, he had to admit it. He had been stupid enough to let some pathetic human brat to manipulate him like some of his useless pawns and send him to this Hell twice. Then, he had come crawling to him, begging him from help. He had lost control of his body to his darker side. He could have let him slowly rot in hellfire, feeling the despair and madden of disappearing, with no one who could save him. Oh, he would have done it with such a pleasure…

But no. that kid had something he needed. Something he craved desperately and he knew it. The kid had been smart though, and that's something he had to admit too. Bribe him with the Sennen Rod had been and intelligent maneuver. However, he wasn't intelligent enough when it came to his darker side. 'I will show you how to defeat him' had said. Ha, _so much for that_.

Although it had been his fault too. He had underestimated his opponent, and in consequence, had fallen right through the darkness. The irony had been unbelievable. He had been overconfident, and had lost; allowing that psycho to take possession of his Sennen Ring.

Malik. That bastard had fooled him from the last time. When he got out of there, he would hunt him down, and wouldn't stop until he had the punishment he deserved. To rot in darkness, until his body wasn't more than a pile of useless flesh. Although he doubt he wasn't suffering the exact thing in that precise moment.

When Yami no Malik had used Ra's attack against them, and they vanished; Malik's soul had abandoned his body. He was probably in another place, somewhere when he'll never be found again.

A wicked grin came across his lips, imagining Malik screaming in pain and suffering. Served him well.

But now he had other problems to take care of; and those problems had a single name: Yami no Malik. How he was supposed to defeat him without his Sennen Ring? He didn't know. Until the Ring returned to his Host's hands again, he was trapped.

Yes, he had sealed a part of his soul I the Sennen Puzzle; and that had guaranteed him the chance to survive.

But he needed a body too.

"Well, well, well; what do we have in here?" a single voice rose from the darkness.

Bakura lifted his gaze in reflect like a hungry falcon, his bloody colored eyes searching for the owner of the voice. They narrowed at the human shape standing a few meters away from him, like it didn't dare to come closer.

"So, are you brave enough to talk to _**me**_ from the shadows, but not enough to come and face _**me**_; are you?" his wicked grin widened and a shivering chuckle escaped his mouth.

The shape seemed to ponder a few seconds, and finally pulled himself out. It was a young man, probably mid twenties. His head was totally shaved and his tanned body was covered with a worn grey-ish cloak. The man crossed his robust arms in front of his chest and a smirk appeared in his lips.

"You don't recognize me, do you?" he asked, a little bit of irony in his tone.

"Am _**I**_ supposed to?" Bakura raised and eyebrow

The man couldn't help but chuckle. However, he didn't move an inch from his standing place.

"I see that you keep talking about yourself that way **(1)**" he shook his head in disbelief "you always thought yourself superior than the others. Although I must warn you, only the Gods are allow to refer to themselves like that"

The spirit released another of his wicked chuckles before answering with arrogance "what makes you suppose_** I**_ **(2)** am not one already?"

The man sighed "you haven't change a single bit, for all I can tell…Thief King"

The white haired man's grin suddenly vanished from his lips, replaced by a deep frown "Mmh. Haven't heard that name in Millenniums. Though it used to by one of _**my**_ favorites, for all_** I**_ can remember"

"Yes, you always liked…how could I explain? To show off. A strange method from a Tomb Robber I might add"

"Isn't the need for attention and worship what motives most of mortals?" muttered Yami no Bakura darkly "aside from greed, of course."

The bald man shrugged "for most of us thieves, it is. Not sure about Pharaohs and priestess though"

A crude smirk came across the spirit's face

"Those were no more than weak foolish mortals who played to be Gods. They were no different from _**me**_ back then"

"Were…as in _past_?" the other thief asked carefully, raising a curious eyebrow

The smirk became wider "Things have changed a lot since then. The man you knew is no more than a simple shadow now._** I**_ have become a much more powerful creature"

The thief's eyes narrowed as he chuckled in disbelief "if you were as strong as you tell to be; you wouldn't be here. If you were as strong as you tell, Anubis wouldn't have been able to reach you…" but his words were cut clean when his throat was suddenly surrounded by the shadows. Hundreds of them were now attaching to the man's neck, forming some kind of mortal collar. His face started becoming a disgusting purple, as he struggled for air "I…can't…"

The spirit shivering grin had now been replaced by a frightening glare and his hand was semi closed, as he was the one grabbing the man's neck; however, he hadn't moved a single inch from where he was sat.

"Do not dare to disrespect _**me**_ or underestimate _**my**_power; because even in Hell,_** I**_ can make your pathetic existence even more painful"

The thief was starting to fall unconscious due to the lack of air, when Yami no Bakura finally let him go. The man fell on his knees and started coughing and breathing heavily, his eyes widened as plates. When he finally dared to raise his gaze, fear had invaded completely his dirty brown eyes.

"W-what…what…are you?" he babbled, still breathing

The Machiavellian smile reappeared in the spirit's pale's lips "Now you've started understanding, do you? The man you knew was a _no one_. A weak, pathetic mortal, full with anger and darkness; who believed he had power" the Ring's inhabitant chuckled with disdain "It wasn't after he made that pact with _**me**_ that he became what he always wanted to be…"

"…and that would be?" dared to ask the man, a trembling hand still clutched at his chest

His grin hinted pearly white teeth; and for a second, the thief saw a little satisfaction glint in the spirit's crimson eyes

"Invincible…"

The thief looked up at his interlocutor's shape. His face was so pale, it didn't seem to be human; like he was talking to a ghost; a mere spectrum of what was once man full of energy and desires. Now, his face only projected anger and hate; darkness and fear.

"Why are you here?" he dared to ask after seconds of silence. His voice was no more than a whisper, caused by the lack of air and the fear.

The white haired ghost tilted his head, letting part of his white messy bangs to partially cover his eyes. The man let go a little relieved sigh. He didn't want to look at those monstrous eyes anymore. He seemed to ponder for a brief second, wondering if that man was worthy enough to hear the tales of his current misfortune. He finally lifted his gaze again; his cold eyes now burning in raging passion

"Let's just say I was foolish. Foolish enough to fall into the trap of a pathetic brat" he spat those words, as he tried to pull his mistake out from his system. He closed his fist in anger, letting the nails bury into his own white flesh "indeed, I was very foolish".

A small chuckle tried to escape the man's lips, though he managed to hide it from the other's eyes with a little cough. He didn't dare to laugh at his face, didn't matter how weak he was right now. He had witnessed with is own eyes what that…_thing_ was capable to do. He didn't want another demonstration.

Nevertheless, the spirit seemed to realize this, for his gaze lifted rapacious, staring at the man with cold predator eyes "think is funny? Laugh while you can mortal, for I will son be free. Or should I say, while you still remember how?" he left out a wicked grin

The thief looked at him skeptically. So he knew what happened to the ones who were sent here. He knew what happened to those who were damned to spend eternity in this hellhole. He knew what happened in _Hell_.

But if he was dammed, so was the ex- thief. And he knew it perfectly. It wasn't a way out; no matter how much you searched or what he said. There isn't a way out from Hell.

Though deathly afraid, the man managed to pull up a tiny bit of braveness from Gods know where, and recovering a bit from his previous cockiness he muttered "And what are you going to do, once you're free, oh Mighty Thief?" he bowed mockingly

He was expecting another deathly glare, a harsh growl; or even the shadows cutting out his air backup. But instead of that, he heard a dark chuckle coming from the other man. A dark chuckle that soon became a shivering laugh. He had seen a lot of terrifying things, both in life and dead; but hearing that laugh, becoming louder with every breathing, was one of the most chilling things he had experienced ever. The man he had known didn't laugh that way; no. it wasn't that shivering

"I am going to obtain what I've been lusting for millennia. The Seven Items will be mine" he finally spoke, between dark laughter "and when the time comes…darkness will flow"

The thief couldn't help but shiver at the last words, although he didn't know why. He then frowned, not understanding entirely what the spirit had meant with this statement. However, being proud as a peacock and stubborn as a bull; he refused to being taken for an ignorant by a mere ghost; so he formed another cocky smirk in his mouth and crossed his arms in front of his chest

"I don't want to be the one who says this to you, oh Mighty King of Thieves" he started, another sarcastic bow following his words "but, if you haven't realized yet, being trapped in here…the game is over"

Again, he waited. Clutching his arms tightly against his chest, waiting for the shadows to attack him, or even the white haired man in person. He waited for him to growl, to laugh; to attack. He waited, feet pinned to the ground; ready to resist the impact. Like any other good thief, he knew exactly how to take back a good attack properly.

The chuckle came out, however, the attack didn't. The dark laughter became louder and wider; this time even more chilling than the first one. This one was a laughter of amusement, of confidence, of pleasure…of evil. He raised his gaze to meet the sprits'. His bloody colored eyes held that particular glint; the one who had made so many men cowered before him. His sharp teeth shined in the surrounding darkness, resembling the ones of a jackal.

He finally opened his mouth, letting the words come out in a soft murky whisper. The man in front of him couldn't help but back up a little, at the meeting of his inhuman eyes.

"On contraire; the game…has just begin"

THE END

…

**(1)** In the original Japanese, Yami no Bakura and Touzoku-ou Bakura refer themselves as 'ore-sama' which is a very highly way to refer oneself. It would be translated like something among "my honorable self". That's what the man is referring when he says only the Gods can talk like that.

**(2)**But as I don't want to be the kind of writer who adds random foreign words in English stories (no pun intended) I decided to represent this by highlighting every time he talks about himself.


End file.
